Snapshots
by dollsnatch
Summary: Basically just some H/E oneshots. First one-Bait. I just realized my previous title was similar to Arcadya's story-apologies!Completley unintentional-a result of extreme tiredness!


**SUMMARY: **Basically just some Hotch/Emily one-shots. Some will be very obvious, some subtle, barely there. Why? Cause Hotch rocks. End of.

**DISCLAIMER: **Not mine. Tv bosses please don't sue me for everything I own. My iPod and this cup of tea that's keeping me awake. And…I love you.

**AN: **Even though these are H/E fics , some will be case-centered. I wanna try writin' me some psycho!

**AN2: **No offense to any clueless cops or backwater sheriffs. I come from a cop family m'self. We don't insult our own! :D

* * *

The silence hung heavy in the observation room. The fans overhead swooshed, and cold air seemed to be blasted at them from every direction.

Emily shivered violently for the fifty millionth time. Not that she'd let anyone see, of course, clamping her teeth together so they couldn't chatter.

She hated this. She wasn't a fan of the cold anyway. It made her cranky, irritable and seriously disrupted her normally unshakeable concentration.

And with this guy, they _needed _to be on top of their game, and your body being preoccupied with solely heating itself did not help focusing.

This damn stations AC went throughout the building, which meant that Hotch's usual tactic of freezing the Unsubs ass off in the interrogation room meant apparently everyone else's would be frozen off too.

Coupled with Crawford, Colorado's unusually low October temperatures, well. Frostbite all round, folks.

Hunching her shoulders further, she rubbed her hands over her arms. "Ha," she thought, "that'll help." She sounded cranky even in her own head.

Speaking of her supervisor, she glanced around the observation room, searching him out.

She didn't want to, but if necessary, she'd plead her case to him. She had to do this, surely he'd understand?

She nearly jumped out of her skin when her eyes found him, and found herself under his scorching gaze.

Her well prepared speech seemed to almost drop out of her head, and she valiantly resisted the urge to look away from the piercing look he had locked on her.

It wasn't anger, and she should know, she'd seen Hotch angry enough times to know _exactly_ what it looked like.

And the look on that irritatingly handsome face was different.

It was…something else, something she'd never seen before, something she couldn't place.

Like she was being scrutinized, and she fought back another shiver. One that had nothing to do with the cold.

And any other day, she would have driven herself half crazy analyzing what that meant. Not now. She wrenched her eyes away from his, running a hand through her hair, collecting herself.

She wasn't going to be distracted today. She had a job to do.

Taking a breath and finding her voice, she fixed her gaze on him again.

"I have to go in there."

He said nothing, again looking at her with that unidentifiable expression.

"Ok." He finally said, lowly, and she snapped her mouth shut. She'd been expecting him to argue, to tell her it was out of the question, maybe even question her sanity.

"But I'm going in with you." His tone told her it wasn't up for discussion.

Knowing this was all she'd get, she nodded agreeably.

She took one last deep breath and opened the door. She could feel Hotch right behind her, feel his warmth on her back, and drew strength from it.

She stepped in.

"Hello Roy."

* * *

Hotch followed Prentiss closely into the interrogation room.

He didn't acknowledge the man at the table, and didn't take a seat like Prentiss, instead crossing to stand in the corner behind her, watching silently.

He didn't like this. The thought of Pren…_Emily_ as he'd started to call her in his head, being with in a 300 mile radius of this man made him want to put her in the car and drive until they ran out of gas.

Yet, there she was, sitting calmly at the table, facing a monster with very particular, very _Emily_ tastes, the case file resting on the tabletop in front of her, her face completely relaxed.

She might have been watching a mildly interesting tv ad, for all her expression betrayed.

It was the object of her silent observation that held Hotch's attention.

He'd have to have been blind to miss the way Roy Maitlin's eyes had swept over her form, taking in her tall, slender figure, her dark hair and eyes, and something that was darker than just appreciation shining in his steely grey ones.

He was used to the rage other men's looks caused in him, but this made him want to throw himself between them, to shield her from this bastard who took women like her and agonizingly slowly strangled them to death.

But he really didn't think shed appreciate him going all Alpha male on her. Emily Prentiss could take care of herself. He knew that.

"You know." Her breaking of the silence pulled him out of his reverie.

She leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table.

"This job?" She shook her head "It's not as exciting as you'd think."

Maitlin didn't respond, just continued to watch her, as she leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs.

"I mean really. Serial killers? Not the most imaginative bunch."

She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping across the floor, folding her arms and starting to pace around the room.

Maitlin, who had shown a tiny flicker of surprise when she'd stood, still said nothing, merely watching her closely.

"It's just…god! Is it too much to ask for a case that's even a challenge?!" She exploded.

"We fly halfway across the country to some town half the time we can't even remember the name of, to tell some clueless cop the same thing over and over and over…"

She unfolded her arms, but continued to pace.

"White. Male. Late-Twenties. Some freakin' Mommy issue he never shook."

Her right hand sliced downwards through the air as she listed each characteristic.

"It's got the point where anyway backwater sheriff could do our job. It's all so mundane, so generic, so…boring."

She turned quickly on her heel, ceasing her pacing and this time fixed Maitlin with the most electrifying stare Hotch had ever seen.

And Maitlin, for his part, looked transfixed, appearing exactly how Hotch felt.

He knew she didn't mean the things she'd said about the job, no one on the team could ever call their profession remotely boring.

No, that didn't matter, it was how she _looked._

Eyes sparkling, breath coming fast, cheeks slightly flushed.

She couldn't be ignored.

"And _then._," She continued, apparently oblivious to the effect she was having on him.

"Then there…was…you. And finally, _finally _we had something good."

Now they'd never admit it, but the rest of the team? They've been just as pissed off as I have with the quality of stuff we've been getting. So here it was was. Something that could present a _challenge, _something that actually made us use our brains."

Hotch managed to take his eyes off her to examine Maitlin. The small, inoffensive man sitting at the table would have seemed completely unremarkable were it not for his grey eyes, that were constantly narrowed slightly, giving him an oddly cunning look. Just your average guy…?

He turned his head slightly to the side as she continued her speech.

"We were losing you know." She told him quietly. "We're not supposed to say it, but we had nothing. Nothing. The victim count was climbing all the time and there wasn't a thing we could do. Hell, we couldn't even use our so-called expertise to build a solid profile. Nothing fit. We were being bested."

Hotch watched the man's face as his mask betrayed a little of the satisfaction he felt at her words. What she was saying had some truth, it wasn't just a spiel for Maitlin. Sure, they had a profile, and he fit it to a tee. But they had virtually zip in the way of physical evidence, besides pettechial hemorrhaging in the victims eyeballs which only told them what they already knew.

That's why they needed a confession, the only reason he would have allowed her into this room.

"I don't like to lose." Emily voice again pulled him out of his scrutiny on their Unsub.

"None of us do." She continued. "Its what makes us so good. We push ourselves like we do 'cause failure and defeat are two things none of us can stand. So now, Roy, I'm gonna ask you to put yourself in my shoes. I come down here, expecting someone iconic. A Bundy, a Gacy, someone who Stephen King couldn't come up with."

"And what I get." Her expression changed again, to a dismissive sneer. "Is _you._"

She leaned forward, her palms on the table now, talking right into Maitlin's face, whose expressions still hadn't faltered.

"I thought you would be exceptional. A new breed, something unheard of. And it turns out that you're just the same as all of them. Just as mundane, just as generic. .Boring"

Hotch leaped forward a second after the unsub lunged at Emily, yanking her back and stepping in front of her, and finally, they could see the madness that had claimed thirteen victims. Maitlin's eyes were beyond wild, as he pulled against the chains keeping him in place.

"You bitch!" He shrieked his first utterance of the entire interview. "You bitch, Ill get you!"

"Like you did the rest of them?" Emily fired at him, stepping around Hotch to face Maitlin, much to his displeasure.

The controlled, centered man of earlier was gone entirely, as Maitlin continued to scream at Emily.

"Yeah, like the rest of them! You know what I do to bitches like you? I squeeze the life outta them! And they squeal just like little piggies, oh, you will too! All of you! Ill get all of you! And then what will your boyfriend there think?! When you're one'a his damn cases?!"

Emily stepped back now, and after a fleeting look at Hotch, turned on her heel and left the interview room.

Maitlin seemed to calm now that shed left, and sit back down, apparently realizing the mistake he'd just made, now yelling for the lawyer he'd earlier declined.

Hotch charged towards him until he was now leaning over the table, right in Maitlins face, showing every inch of disgust he felt at him.

"Shut up. Shut up right now. You will never touch her. Never. Ill end you myself first. Do you understand?"

Maitlin nodded slightly, wide-eyed.

"It would do you well to remember you are in a police station in the middle of literally nowhere, surrounded by deputies who would much rather deal with you themselves then waste their time bringing you to trial. And I for one, am seriously considering letting them." With one last malevolent look, he charged out of the room, with only one thought in his head.

Boyfriend?

* * *

Emily shifted in her seat, attempting to get comfortable one last time.

She huffed to herself realizing sleep just wasn't going to come, however much she wanted it, envying the deep slumber-induced breathing of her team-mates around her.

She decided to content herself with staring out the window at the vivid red early morning sky at this altitude, anything to keep herself from obsessively going over the events of today, from what their unsub had said. Boyfriend. She shook her head violently, pushing those wandering thoughts from her mind.

Delusional much, Emily?

She sighed, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the seat. When was she ever just going to snap out of it?

She ignored the snide voice in her head that said "Never" in a high pitch and danced a freakin' jig.

She rubbed a hand over her eyes and opened them to see Hotch sitting in the previously vacant seat across from her. She jumped, a hand going to her heart.

"God, Hotch" she breathed "someone really needs to put a bell on you."

A smile ghosted over his features, as he replied "maybe, but that would _not _be very beneficial in the field."

"Hmmmm" she mused "No. Maybe just a little one? Just think of the fear that little tinkling would strike into the hearts of our unsubs."

He gave her one of his rare full smiles, that seemed to erase all the tension and weariness sometimes so evident in his face, making him look like a younger, happier Hotch.

She couldn't help but smile back.

All too quickly it faded from his features, as he surveyed her, his eyes roaming over her, as if checking for any injuries.

"Are you ok?" He asked after a minute.

Emily looked away, out the window. "Fine." She replied. "Just…ah, you know, making sleep deprivation an Olympic Sport."

"Its ok, really." She told him, seeing the worry on his face. "Ill be out like a light once I get to my own bed. I never was able to sleep in transit, makes long distance car rides a real laugh-riot."

When the worry still wouldn't fade, she sighed again.

"Look, right now, I'm happy just to watch the morning come, and pretend like my job doesn't involve baiting psychos who want to strangle me."

"You were really good in there you know." He told her. "Earlier. A lot calmer than I was."

She wrinkled her brow in confusion. "Hotch, you didn't say a word to him."

"No, but the whole time I was…waiting. For him to do something, anything so that I could justify slamming his head into the table."

At her questioning look, he inhaled and said in a rush.

"I really, _really_ didn't like the way her looked at you. I just...didn't."

He ducked his head, as she gave a him a small, mirthless smile, and they shared a look for a moment. Delusional might have been a tad off the mark.

They both knew this wasn't the time for this discussion. Maybe there would never be a right time.

"You know what they say about a red sky in the morning?" He asked her.

"Whats that?" She replied.

"Sheppard's warning."

"Ah." She deadpanned. "Ill be sure to check that all my sheep are in order before heading back to my hut."

She smiled to herself at his low chuckle, and stared out at the sky, watching the morning creep in.

* * *

So there we have it. My first attempt at CM fanfic. Whats the consensus?? Review are like caffeine to me. I need three doses a day to even begin to function.

Thanks for reading! Doll.


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